Resolution
by Ink On Paper
Summary: In which Tony seeks catharsis for Eli David's sins . . . . Tag to Enemies  with underlying hints of Tiva .


**A/N: Here's your next tag, this time going back a bit to the Enemies arc -which I loved. There was a conversation I stumbled upon on LJ about how someone (read: Tony) should have confronted Eli David a little more harshly. And I agree wholeheartedly -Eli deserved at least a good cuff to the jaw. And so is my inspiration to this little oneshot, a scene that was long overdue and, in my opinion, totally called for. I hope it's in character and that you enjoy, keep the peace and much love 'til next time, Kit.**

**DISCLAIMER: If I owned NCIS, something like what you are about to read would have occured in some way, shape, or form. But I don't and it didn't.**

**"RESOLUTION"**

"Director David!"

A voice, ricocheting around the concrete confines of the parking garage, prompts him into halting, turning slightly to glance backward. A figure is jogging toward him, the hem of the man's suit jacket fluttering slightly, the footsteps of Italian loafers a muted staccato echo.

"Is there something I can help you with, Special Agent DiNozzo?" he asks as pleasantly as he can, but he is exhausted and wishes to return home.

"Yeah, actually, there is," and suddenly a fist connects to the older man's jaw, forcing Eli's head to snap sideways, the metallic taste of blood pervading all too familiarly in his mouth.

The American steps back, out of reach, but not retreat, as the Israeli spits blood-stained saliva onto the asphalt, muttering Hebrew curses under his breath. Recollecting himself, he faces the younger man, asking impassively, "And what was that for?"

Tony's answer is simple, blunt in its delivery as if it is the most obvious explanation in world, "Ziva."

"Of course," Eli agrees, tenderly massaging his bruised jaw. "And you felt this was your duty because . . . . ?"

"Because I know she didn't hit you and somebody needed to."

"What is this about?" he demands, not hostile, merely impatient and tired. And sore.

Tony looks at him like he's insane. "You know, you really are a bastard."

This accusation receives the rise it calls for, eliciting worn rage and drooping dignity from the weary diplomat. "What do you want?" And it leaves no room for interpretation.

Tony regards him briefly, sizing him up, contemplating his next course of action. And Eli waits, unwilling to goad the other man and further postpone his departure. Finally, after several lengthy heartbeats, "You sent your only kid to die; you trained your daughter to kill . . . . Doesn't that bother you?"

"You have no idea-"

But Tony interrupts once more with a placating palm, "You're right. I don't have any idea. I don't know what it's like in Israel, I don't know what it's like to be in charge of the only thing keeping your country safe. . . . But I know what it's like losing people you love, I know what it's like thinking you've screwed up so bad you can't do anything about it. And I know what it's like to try and fix that. What I don't understand is how you could leave it like that, how you could leave her."

"There were extenuating circumstances-"

"She trusted you! She –she mourned you! You! You, her father! Not her director, not her master, but her _father_. That _has_ to hurt somewhere."

Dark eyes stare flatly at smoldering green and neither man moves as time trudges on, oblivious.

Then, "Why do you care so much about my relationship with my daughter?" And it is a valid question.

The younger man does not take much time to ponder a reply, but his voice is nonetheless measured, his response almost rehearsed: "Because she's my partner . . . . And I know how much this had bothered her." And the tense goes unnoticed by Eli as he is too occupied by this admission coming off as more of a deflection.

"She is fortunate to have such a _partner_."

Tony just nods.

"Tell me this, Agent DiNozzo: Is my daughter happy here?"

"That depends, are you asking out of professional capacity?"

"I am asking as her father."

Tony seems to accept this, nodding to himself pensively. "Yeah," he finally says, "She seems happier than she has in a long time –she smiles more." And this confession surprises both parties.

Eventually, Eli offers the other man a tight smile. "Ziva has lived a hard life; she deserves now to rest. It . . . . comforts me to know that she has people to love her because God knows she has been denied that for so long."

Tony, satisfied, takes a step back and inclines his head, "Shalom, Director."

"Shalom."

...

"You're damn lucky he didn't have someone shoot you for assault."

He glances to his left to find cool cerulean gazing out from a shadowed corner of the garage. And Gibbs' voice is not disproving as he falls into step beside his senior agent –in fact, there seems to be a hint of mirth lurking somewhere within the gruffness.

"I made sure we were alone," Tony defends, quasi-indignant.

"You find what you were looking for?"

And that seems to stop the younger man cold.

"I needed the catharsis, Boss," he explains, suddenly serious and frighteningly quiet, "Ziva . . . . Ziva can accept things as they are, she can heal without any kind of closure. I –I can't compartmentalize like you guys can, I can't just move on –not after something like that. Forgive and forget, yeah, but not on that kind of caliber."

Gibbs nods silently before summarizing: "You got your resolution."

And Tony's mouth twitches upward at the corners:

"We can't all build boats in our basements."

**A/N: ?**


End file.
